The Re-Written Revolution

The Email

Hi, so, this is a bit shorter than I wanted it to be. Though, its fine for my standards. Shout out  to my mom who proofread this for me. I love you mom <3. That heart looks kind of like a butt, but I digress. 

Warning: Minor language and there's a fire. 

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There were many things in life that Jamie aspired to be. A famous artist, a loyal partner, and a well mannered, patient nurse. She also had so many things she dreamed to do before she died. Like traveling the world with nothing but the clothes on her back, a sack of food, and a map. Maybe finding the perfect woman and finally starting that family her mother complained about her not having. Or actually making enough money to finally move out of the small apartment she shared with her long time best friend, Harold Robertson. 

Of course Jamie loved Harold in the weird, platonic way a sister would love a brother. But in that same brother-sister way, she found that Harold could be quite annoying. He was clumsy and forgetful, often losing things like his inhaler. How someone could lose something that could mean the difference between life and death, Jamie didn't know. Although he had a job, it payed rather poorly, so it was often up to Jamie to pay their rent. Which did not make it easier to find a place of her own. 

"Hey, Jamie," As if summoned by the mere thought of him, Harold poked his head out of their small kitchen. "Do you remember where you put the oregano?" He asked. Without looking up from her computer, Jamie shook her head no. 

"If it isn't in the spot labeled 'oregano', then I have no idea." Jamie sighed, taking off her oversize glasses and rubbing her tired eyes. When she pulled her hands away, they were smudged with with the little bit of makeup she still had on from the day before. 

The dark haired woman collapsed against the couch cushions and turned her head towards her friend. Her neck cracked loudly when she moved, and at the same time Harold let out a strangled noise in frustration. "Can't you just use something else? We have plenty of other spices. They're basically the only thing we have here." Harold whined in response. 

"No I can't just 'replace it with something else', that would ruin the whole dish. You don't mess with these kinds of things! Everything has a specific way of being done, and just one tilt on the scale can send the whole thing tumbling into the trash can!" The man yelled, far to loud for their small apartment. The other simply rolled her eyes and chuckled, getting back to filling out job applications. 

"Wow, Harold. You almost sound like you're an organized person." She snarked back. "Have you seen your inhaler recently?" Harold's head popped back up at the kitchen entryway, with his eyes narrowed in an angry glare. With a lazy smile and lidded eyes, Jamie held his gaze. A beat passed, then the two descended into a fit of giggles. 

"You're such an ass!" The elder spat, again vanishing into the kitchen. 

"You love me!" Jamie replied, breathless from her still fading laughing fit. "We both know it." 

"Ugh, you're worse than my actual sister!" They both started up another fit of laughter at that. "And you know Martha!" 

"Hey, Martha's amazing! I'm taking that as a compliment." Harold groaned again, grabbing the oregano from the cupboard. A few stray bits fell out, landing above the part of the shelf labeled 'oregano'. 

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That next morning, Jamie woke up to the sound of her blaring alarm. She slowly opened her eyes to stare at her phone. It moved slightly every time it buzzed, the screen lighting up and displaying the time. 

5:31

"Turn that thing off!" Harold called from his bedroom. 

"Yes, of course, my lady!" Jamie shot back with a light chuckle. She reached out to pick up her phone and unlocked it, the alarm shutting off suddenly. Without the loud noise blaring in her ear, she was tempted to lay down and sleep for the another couple hours. Then her phone buzzed again, and she was reminded why she was getting up so early. 

Email @ 5:35  A.M. - Francisco Pharmaceuticals 

With another sigh, Jamie pushed herself up and slid out of bed. Her dark hair stuck up in different spots, while the rest was still caught in her ponytail. She padded into the kitchen and turned on the stove. Stretching on her toes so she could reach the high shelves, Jamie pulled a kettle and tea packets out of the cabinet. 

Once the tea was finally brewing, she wandered into the den and over to the couch. Her laptop was in the same place she had been sitting previously, plugged into an outlet behind the couch. Jamie opened it up as she sat down and went straight to her email. Without even reading any of them, she clicked the first one. 

Are you lonely? Do the people you love constantly avoid you? Do you get left alone on Sundays wondering what's wrong with you? 

Boy, do we have the thing for you!

"Nope." The woman said, popping the 'p'. "I thought I turned the spam watcher-thing on." 

Deleting the email, Jamie went back to scrolling through the rest of them until she found the newest one from 'Francisco Pharmaceuticals'  and clicked it. Almost immediately the timer on the oven beeped, alerting her that the tea was finished. Jamie ignored it, eyes reading over the fairly long email. 

"Jaaaaammieeeee!" Harold moaned loudly from his bedroom. "Turn it oooooff!" 

"Okay, okay! Geez, give me a second!" The younger hissed. She looked back at the email, then pushed herself back up to walk to the kitchen. 

As she rummaged around in the kitchen, the sent date on the email changed from 2016 to 1790. Once she walked back in the room and sat down, the date quickly changed back. Jamie hesitated, freezing up when she went to set down her mug of tea. She squinted at the computer screen, not entirely sure what she just saw. 

"JAMIE THE WASHING MACHINE IS ON FIRE!" Harold's sudden scream made Jamie jump, nearly spilling her tea all over herself. Setting it down, the young woman jumped to her feet and ran down the hallway. 

"How did you do it this time?" Jamie asked, grabbing the fire extinguisher off of the floor by Harold's bedroom door. When she rounded the corner into the storage room, Harold was flat against the wall opposite to the washing machine. Small, orange flames licked the rim of the lid, also coming out of the sides on the bottom. 

"Go call 911, and grab my laptop before the sprinklers turn on." She said as calmly as she could. Smoke was starting to fill up the room. "I'll meet you downstairs." 

Harold nodded, standing in the doorway for a second. With his phone held between his shoulder and his ear, Harold bent down to pick up Jamie's laptop. 

The date on the email was November 16, 1790. 

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Well, I hope you liked the introduction. I put a lot of work into it and I'm fairly proud of how it came out. If you have any questions or grammatical corrections (if that made sense), please comment. Thank you <3 (butt heart)